It Makes Me Ill
by Macha
Summary: Songfic challenge on TWWStateoftheUnion. I think the title pretty much sums it up for me. ;)


SPOILERS: None.   
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. If they were, I'd be pissed if someone did this   
to them too. ;)  
SUMMARY: Songfic challenge. (J/D) I think the title pretty much sums   
it up for me. ;)  
THANKS: To Jo and Morgan for laughing in all the right places.   
  
Note: It's been suggested that I warn y'all not to consume beverages   
or, really, anything whilst reading this. I don't want to be arrested   
for death-by-fanfic. ;)  
It Makes Me Ill  
Macha  
~  
I was hanging with the fellas  
Saw you with your new boyfriend, it made me jealous  
~  
  
So I was hanging out with Toby and Sam at a bar. Sure, it was the   
middle of the day and three high-ranking members of the President's staff   
had more important things to do than bond over beers, but we were at a   
bar anyway. Maybe we had, you know, a work-related reason to be there.   
We were, perhaps, meeting with an important Senator about a thing. A   
political thing.   
  
In fact, the bar was in a trendy part of town. It was attached to the   
newest 'hot spot' for the Washington elite, which is why we were going   
to meet an important Senator about a political thing in the middle of   
the day. Took all three of us, too, for reasons beyond my ken.  
  
Anyway, we were discussing the bill, and then I noticed Donnatella Moss   
gliding into the restaurant, dressed in a simple, but very elegant   
black dress that I didn't remember her wearing at the office. Probably   
because she wasn't, and the dress was a convenient way to make me suddenly   
realize my undying love for her. After all, she looked totally hot   
and, really, it's quite plausible that I'd see my assistant and friend of   
three years in a hot little number and fall passionately in love.   
  
At any rate, she was on the arm of some stuffy politico in really bad   
clothes. I've never been one to pay too much attention to people's   
clothes, provided they're, you know, wearing some, but for reasons passing   
understanding, this guy's really bad clothes caught my eye. I'm   
talking a brown suit with a blue tie, and then black shoes. Mismatched color   
schemes are *so* last season. I don't know how I know that. It's not   
like I sit around and read In Style, but somehow, I seem to possess   
information about the latest fashions.   
  
Anyway, Donna's date was ugly.  
  
He was also a Republican, or so I remembered Donna telling me. It was   
interesting how the sight of an ugly, poorly-dressed Republican yutz   
could inexplicably turn a self-assured, incredibly bright, and handsome   
Democrat into a puddle of insecurities that more closely resembled a   
high school student. But for whatever reason, I was jealous.  
  
And then I heard the song being played over the bar's sound system, an   
incredible piece of music by my favorite boy band, 'N Sync. I   
immediately shushed Toby and Sam--who were discussing the political thing with   
the Senator--and listened to the lyrics.  
  
~  
I was hoping that I'd never see you with him  
But it's all good, 'cause I'm glad that I met him  
'Cause now I know the competition's very slim to none  
~  
  
With a vapid grin in place, I abandoned Toby, Sam, the Senator, and the   
political thing, and rose to my feet. Those 'N Sync-ers weren't just   
talented singers, their lyrics were instructive! My competition--if you   
can call a poorly dressed, ugly-ass Republican competition--really   
*was* slim to none.  
  
I'd always dreaded the day that I would see my Donna with another man.   
I don't know why, since I appear to be completely clueless about her, I   
have no actual romantic claim on her to speak of, and I've never said   
anything to her about my feelings. Still, I inexplicably decided that I   
have the right to get jealous.   
  
Besides the mismatched clothes, the ugly factor, and the party   
affiliation, I had to make very sure that my boys were right about this loser.   
And because the lyrics to the song wouldn't fully apply until I   
actually, you know, *met* Donna's date, I set off in their direction.   
  
'Cause 'N Sync told me to.  
  
~  
And I can tell by looking that he's not the one  
He's not the type you said you liked  
His style is wack, clothes are bad  
~  
  
"Josh."  
  
Sam caught up with me halfway to Donna's table. I tried to shrug him   
off, but he wouldn't be deterred. "Sam, he's not her type. His style   
is totally wack."  
  
I wasn't quite sure what 'wack' meant, but if it's good enough for 'N   
Sync, it's good enough for an articulate, thirty-seven year old   
politician, right?   
  
Sam seemed to understand. "Yes," he nodded. "And his clothes are bad.   
He's definitely not the one."  
  
I gave him a rather odd look. Not because he suddenly sounded like a   
boy band member (because, really, have you looked at Sam? He *should*   
be in a boy band with those almost girlish, unthreatening good looks),   
but because he agreed with me about the wack factor but was still   
holding onto my arm. "Then why are you trying to stop me?"  
  
"Stop you?" Sam gave me a befuddled look. "Oh!" He let go of my arm.   
"No, I'm not trying to stop you. It's just that there's this office   
pool, see, and if you declare your undying love for Donna in the next   
five minutes, the President will win."  
  
I stared at him, unable to believe that the collection of brilliant   
political minds in the White House had nothing better to do than sit   
around and place bets on their coworkers' relationships. It seemed like   
something straight out of X-Files fanfiction, but I merely shook my head.   
"The President's involved?"  
  
"Yes, and you know how he gets." Sam rolled his eyes, and I nodded.   
He had a point. President Bartlet just loved meddling in the private   
lives of his staffers. Because he wasn't busy running a country or   
anything.  
  
Sam brightened. "On the other hand, I think he'll give you two crazy   
kids his Presidential Blessing if you ask nicely."  
  
"Is there such thing as a Presidential Blessing?" I wondered. I knew I   
didn't pay enough attention in law school, but I didn't remember   
anything about the president being empowered to give an Official Nuptial   
Blessing.  
  
"Well..." Sam hesitated, taking a moment to review the duties bestowed   
upon the Chief Executive by the Constitution. "Not as such, no."  
  
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Not as such? Have you been hanging around   
with Ainsley?"  
  
Sam blushed a little. "No. It's just there was this song, and it   
really hit home with me, and--"  
  
I gave him an understanding look. "Was it an 'N Sync song?" God,   
those boys and their songs were just everywhere I turned, touching lives,   
warming hearts, making people shake their groove things at inappropriate   
times.  
  
"No," Sam frowned. "Backstreet Boys."  
  
I shook my head, disappointed in Sam's apparent wack-ness. "The   
Backstreet Boys are *so* over, Sam. Their latest single isn't even being   
picked up on U.S. radio." And I should know, considering I had all the   
presets in my car tuned to KISS-FM. Screw NPR; I need my boy band fix!  
  
Sam crossed his arms. "I still like them better."  
  
"Boys," Toby interjected, striding up to us with that familiar glower   
in place. "What are you bickering about?"  
  
"Backstreet Boys versus 'N Sync," I explained.  
  
Toby gave us both a pained look, pressed one palm to the side of his   
face, and said, "This is really what you're arguing about?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Boy bands? Really?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
With a long-suffering sigh, Toby said, "Boy bands are over. It's all   
about Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears."  
  
~  
Come on, girl, let him go  
I want you back  
~  
  
Toby and Sam wandered off, still arguing over boy bands versus slutty   
young songstresses, and I turned back to Donna.  
  
It's almost unbelievable, the way those 'N Sync-ers were able to   
describe my situation so perfectly, given that they'd never met me. Well, I   
mean, technically, I've never actually *had* Donna, but that didn't   
stop the song from being so incredibly perfect. In fact, I felt like   
Donna was mine in my heart and soul, and always had been. Even though   
that's actually kind of a creepy thought, besides which I'd only met her   
three years earlier. Didn't matter--she'd somehow been destined for me   
since the beginning of time. I bet 'N Sync has a song about that too...  
  
But that was something I could explore when I got back to the office   
and my 'N Sync CD collection.  
  
And so I strode purposefully to the table, feeling quite confident.  
  
~  
Call me a hater, if you want to  
But I only hate on him 'cause I want you  
~  
  
"Donna, who's the gomer?" I asked, hatin' on him, 'cause I wanted her.  
  
Donna didn't look impressed at first. Obviously, she wasn't paying   
attention to the lyrics. "Josh, what are you doing here?"  
  
"I had a meeting with the Senator. About the thing."   
  
"Right," Donna nodded, understanding immediately what I was referring   
to, even if I didn't. She always was more organized than me. "But why   
are you *here*?"  
  
I pointed at the speakers embedded in the ceiling, trying to draw her   
attention to 'N Sync and their worldly wisdom.  
  
Donna glanced up reflexively, then gave me a strange look.  
  
I broke down and said it out loud. "You shouldn't be here with him."   
This time, I pointed at the Republican, who looked back at me,   
perturbed.  
  
"Josh, I'm on a date. You're my boss--"  
  
"I'm more than a boss to you, Donna," I told her sweetly, ignoring the   
fact that I rarely, if ever spoke sweetly to anyone. "And you're more   
than an assistant to me. You always have been."   
  
She gave me a skeptical look. "When did you start talking like this?"  
  
"It doesn't matter," I answered impatiently. Those teen singing   
sensations sure understood the inner workings of the hearts of middle-aged   
political operatives. It was almost spooky. "I'm only hatin' on him   
cause I want you."  
  
~  
Say I'm trippin' if you feel like  
But you without me ain't right (ain't right)  
~  
  
"Josh," Donna said, sounding like a fourteen-year old trying way too   
hard to be cool, "you're trippin'."  
  
I wonder when she started talking like that--I guess we're both just   
out of our heads with love. That or she's drawing her inspiration from   
'N Sync songs too.   
  
"No," I told her. "I'm not."  
  
"You are."  
  
"Am not."  
  
"Are too."  
  
"Am--"  
  
"Please," interrupted the wack-ly dressed Republican. "Would you two   
stop bickering like an old married couple?" His eyes widened. "Oh,   
god. You two are made for each other, aren't you?"  
  
Donna and I locked gazes, and our souls forged a connection. Which   
isn't nearly as painful as it sounds. It doesn't involve superheated   
metal or hammers either, just purple prose.  
  
"Yes," I told her. "We *are* made for each other. Because you without   
me just ain't right."  
  
"Ain't right?" Donna echoed, grinning.  
  
I shrugged and gave her a boyish grin. "It's true."  
  
~  
You can say I'm crazy, if you want to  
That's true-- I'm crazy 'bout you  
~  
  
"Josh?" Donna looked at me, her eyes full of girlish emotion.  
  
"Yes, my love?"  
  
"Josh, you're crazy," she told me. Then she gave her ugly Republican   
an uncertain look. The other man remained oddly quiet throughout my   
conversation with Donna. I suppose he recognized the alpha male when he   
saw him. Him being me, you understand.  
  
"I am crazy," I grinned at Donna as I took her hand. I knew exactly   
what to say. The words written by a cynical music executive and sung by   
a group of manufactured pop stars were exactly what I needed. "I'm   
crazy 'bout you."  
  
"Oh, Josh," she said, and then she leaned forward and kissed me. I   
felt our very souls quake in their little soul-shoes, and then I could see   
the future.  
  
We would be married in the Rose Garden, the President giving my   
beautiful Donnatella away. She'd wear a gorgeous dress--a Vera Wang,   
perhaps--and an opaque veil, and she'd promise to love, honor, and obey me.   
And then she'd welcome my manhood into her love channel, and we'd raise   
three beautiful children together: Joanie and Claudia, the twins, and   
their little brother, Leo Noah.   
  
I pulled back and looked into Donna's eyes, and I knew she'd seen the   
same thing. I could tell by the way her lower lip trembled, and a   
single teardrop balanced precariously on her long, lush lashes.  
  
"I love you, Donna."  
  
"I love you too, Josh."  
  
And we lived happily ever after.  
  
THE END  
Author's note: God, I need to go jump off of something tall.  
  
Lyrics copyright 'N Sync, I'd guess, or whoever wrote this bit of tripe   
in the first place. :)  
  
Comments to Macha@purpleturtle.com  
  
The Sticky Wicket:  



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